


One Last Night of Debauchery

by xslytherclawx



Series: Cat Café Universe [21]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Stag Nights & Bachelor Parties, Strippers & Strip Clubs, YOI Wedding Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 09:16:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11756724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xslytherclawx/pseuds/xslytherclawx
Summary: It's Chris's bachelor party, and he's decided to do it German style, complete with inappropriate costume and vendor's tray full of things to sell.(Set in the summer of 2023; canon compliant as of publication date. Rated M for Chris's costume and what he sells, but there's no sex or porn or anything.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> German bachelor parties are the best bachelor parties and I'd see a lot of them when I lived in Berlin, and somehow whenever I visited Leipzig, I'd see them there, too. And even though Chris is Swiss, they seem like the kind of thing he'd fucking love, so there.
> 
> Matthias is Chris's Mystery Man, and all of his friends are OCs except for one who's loosely based on a real person just for the comedic factor, because I totally randomised where he was from and found out he was the right age and in the right place to have known this singer as a kid.
> 
> This is for YOI Wedding Week, but it's too late to be for day one, so let's just say it's a free day.

Matthias usually didn’t give much thought to the differences between his and Christophe’s cultures. He was German (if from Saxony) and Chris was Swiss. That was much closer than a lot of people managed on such an international field.

And yet… and yet…

“What do you mean ‘what kind of bachelor party is that’?” Matthias asked, incredulous.

“Mathis, chéri, how in the _world_ is dressing up in a humiliating costume and selling cheap crap on the streets of a major city a _bachelor party_ ?” [1]

“It’s a day out with your friends. You leave in the morning – they’re all in matching t-shirts – and you go into the nearest city wearing a terrible costume with a vendor’s tray strapped on, filled with things no one would ever want to buy, and you have the day to sell everything. In the end, you take the money you’ve earned and go get drinks.”

“But…” said Chris, “why do that when you could go to a strip club? Or night club? Or club of any kind, really?”

Matthias huffed. “Some people go to strip clubs afterward instead of bars.”

Christophe’s face lit up. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“I’m not bailing your friends out if they do anything illegal,” Matthias reminded his fiancé gently.

“On second thought,” said Christophe, “with Victor and Yuuri, and Phichit, too,… maybe I should just rent out a private ballroom or something and hire strippers individually. Open bar.”

“That might be for the best,” Matthias said. He’d seen the photos of the various times Victor and Yuuri had gotten drunk together. And videos. It was only worse when Phichit was involved, too. And, well, he was looking forward to visiting some of his favorite bars with his friends. A relatively quiet night out, embarrassing costume aside.

* * *

It could have been worse, Matthias thought, as he walked around in the giant pink bunny costume his friends had made him wear. His tray was full of relatively normal objects – mostly rabbit-themed, but relatively normal.

Olivier, as the sole non-German in the group, found the whole affair hilarious. “Mats, I can’t believe you’re walking around like this.”

“It’s a German tradition,” Jans countered. “I did it. It was great.”

“Besides, once he sells all this shit, it’s drinks on him at the bar,” Felix said.

“I still don’t understand why you’d choose to do this over, say, a painting class. Or paint _ball_ ,” Olivier said.

“I always saw these kinds of bachelor parties when I was a kid, and always thought I’d do it on my own.”

“ _Always_ ?” Felix repeated. “In _Chemnitz_ ?” [2]

“What, would _Plauen_ have been better? Sure, I saw a lot more when I moved to Berlin for uni, but Berlin’s the capital.”

“Did you or Chris have to split up your planned parties?” Jans asked, sensing danger and changing the subject.

Matthias shook his head. “His party is all of his figure skating friends. There’s not a lot of overlap. I competed against a couple of them when I was still skating, but Chris is doubtlessly closer to them than I am.”

A group of college-aged women walked by and Matthias tried to wave them down. “Hey! Excuse me! Do you wanna buy a stuffed animal so my friends and I can get drinks later?”

“Why in the world anyone would _elect to do this_ , I have no idea,” Olivier muttered.

* * *

Christophe, meanwhile, was walking down the streets of Lausanne dressed as a giant penis, carrying a box full of condoms, lube, and cock rings. He was surrounded by his friends, and, trailing in the back and pretending as if their matching t-shirts meant they weren’t a part of the group, Yuri Plisetsky and Otabek Altin were trying desperately to not be noticed.

“Mathis had the best idea, didn’t he?” Chris enthused. “This is much better than going straight to a club, and I’ve booked us the ballroom at the hotel we’ll all be staying at tonight.” He looked straight through the group to Otabek and Yuri. “Don’t worry, Yurio, Otabek. You’ll be sharing a room.”

“That’s not my name,” Yuri protested, although by this point he knew it was a lost cause. “And we’ve been dating for _years_ , there’s no fucking need to single us out.”

But Chris wasn’t listening. He’d spotted a handsome-looking couple and prepared to strike. “Gentlemen! It’s such a lovely night! Wouldn’t want you to be unprepared! What do you say? For five francs, you get two condoms and a bottle of lube, and I get some drinks for my friends!”

Yuri slouched down and hid behind Otabek, burying his face in the crook of his boyfriend’s neck. “I don’t know him. I’m not a part of this.”

“At least no one’s started drinking yet.”

“Beka, he’s dressed like a giant _penis_.”

“...Point taken.”

Meanwhile, Yuuri, Phichit, and Cao Bin were all more than a little confused.

“Is this some weird… Swiss thing? It’s not just Western, right?” Yuuri asked.

“Chris is French-Swiss, right? Or was it Italian? Because… Wikipedia says it’s not either of those,” Phichit said, tapping at his phone. “German, maybe?”

“I don’t think Germans dress up in giant penis costumes for their bachelor parties. That sounds like something we’d have heard of before,” Cao Bin added.

“It could always just be… Chris…” Yuuri suggested.

“Got it!” Phichit said. “Just gotta plug it through the translator…. Wikipedia says that German bachelor parties often involve going out on the town with the groom-to-be in an embarrassing costume, selling stuff from a box to get money for drinks later. It says the Bachelorette parties are often scavenger hunts.”

“Chris!” Victor called.

Chris looked up from counting his money. “Yeah, Victor?”

“Let me see what you have. Maybe my Yuuri and I could buy something.”

Yuuri did not miss Yuri mock retching, still clinging tight to Otabek. Really, Victor should know better by now than to say something like that that loudly in front of their adopted son.

* * *

By seven in the evening, Matthias had sold everything in his box, and the box itself, and his friends were kind enough to allow him to change from the bunny costume to a matching t-shirt before they went to the bar.

He’d managed to make a decent amount of money, but eventually his money ran out. They were already a few rounds in, so no one really minded much, but it was still pretty early, and Matthias had drank enough to want something a little more exciting than a quiet night in.

Olivier elbowed him. “What d’you say we crash Chris’s party?”

“Well,” said Matthias, “I’ve spent everything I made today… why the hell not?”

“Does this mean Felix and I get to tell your fiancé’s friends embarrassing stories from your childhood?” Lukas asked, sipping innocently at his beer.

Matthias shot his brother a look. “No, it does not.”

“I’ve got some good stories from uni,” Jans offered with a grin.

“I hate all of you.”

* * *

On the way to the hotel, Yuri discreetly snapped a photo of Chris in his ridiculous penis costume and posted it on snapchat with the caption _dick pic_. He made sure to send it directly to Mila, Beka, Dima, Dasha, Vika, and Isabella for good measure. (What? Isabella was cool; she’d just, for some unknown reason, married a total jackass). [3]

Beka snickered beside him. “Who did you send that to?”

“The people who will appreciate it,” Yuri said with a grin. As if on command, he got a message back from Isabella.

**Pity he’s not wearing that to the wedding**

Yuri typed back, **It’s Giacometti. He might; who knows?**

He checked the time; it was eight, so that meant it was midnight in Almaty. Dima, Dasha, and Vika were probably still out at a club and not checking their phones. That didn’t excuse Mila, the hag.

Christophe wore the penis costume through the hotel and led the way to the ballroom. Yuri leaned in to whisper in Otabek’s ear, “Why don’t we just go to our room?”

Otabek wrapped an arm around Yuri’s waist. “Let’s give it an hour.”

Yuri sighed dramatically. “Fine. But the second Victor and Katsuki start to strip, we’re out.”

“Oh, yeah.”

There was, as it turned out, an open bar, so Yuri got a neat vodka and found a couple of chairs off to the side. Otabek joined him a few minutes later, drink in hand.

“What’d you get?”

“Tom Collins.”

“Pretentious ass,” Yuri sniped.

“But you love me.”

“In _spite_ of shit like this, Beka. Not because of it.”

Otabek laughed. “There’s bottomless champagne at the bar, too. So, really, it’s just a matter of time before Katsuki gets drunk.”

“We know the warning signs. Once a single article of clothing is off of him, we’ll go back to our room.”

* * *

At a quarter past nine, Matthias and his friends entered the hotel. He sent off a short text to Chris.

 

**Messages with** Chris  
  
**Matthias:** Mind if we crash your party?  
  
**Chris:** The more the merrier!   
  
**Chris:** You know where to find us   


And so, Matthias led the way to the ballroom.

It was chaos. Chris had somehow managed to create a miniature nightclub in the hotel ballroom. He’d put up stripper poles (and, apparently, hired professionals), hired a DJ (who was not the same one for their wedding), and, as Felix joyfully pointed out, he had an open bar.

Matthias was relieved to see that his fiancé had gotten rid of the giant penis costume.

Chris sauntered up to him. “Mathis, chéri! So glad you could make it!” He said something loudly in Schweizerdeutsch which Matthias, in his tipsy state, couldn’t quite understand.[4]

“Holy shit!” someone yelled from the corner, and the next thing Matthias knew, there was a tall, skinny blonde man in front of him. “You’re Chris’s fiancé,” the man said in English.

“And you’re Yuri Plisetsky,” Matthias responded.

“That man at the bar. That’s not who I think it is, right?”

Matthias looked over at the bar. Felix was taking shots. “Uh. That depends on who you think it is.”

Yuri Plisetsky turned to face Chris, poking him in the chest. “I _wondered_ why you picked that fucking song for the Pyeongchang Olympics season short program!”

Chris’s eyes flitted over to Felix. “That’s one of Matthias’s old school friends. Felix. Painfully straight, but you know…”

“ _Felix_ ?” Yuri repeated. “So it _is_ him!”

“Look,” said Matthias. “He’s got a giant ego, so just don’t… feed it too much, all right?”

Yuri agreed and then walked back to the corner to the man he’d been sitting with before. Another skater. Their wedding DJ, too, if Matthias wasn’t mistaken.

“That’s Otabek Altin. I have a good feeling it’ll be their wedding next. Well,” Chris said, scanning the room. “Out of the people here, anyway.”

Right, Otabek Altin. That made sense. “What did you do with all of the money you made, anyway?” Matthias asked him.

“Oh, that? Those are our tips for the strippers. Trust me. When Yuuri Katsuki gets drunk… you don’t want to miss it, and I couldn’t leave _that_ to my ability to sell sex toys, condoms, and lube while dressed like a giant cock.” Chris slung an arm around his fiancé’s shoulder. “And don’t worry. I got a couple of female strippers for Phichit and Cao Bin, so your painfully straight friend and brother should be fine, too.”

Matthias wondered, briefly, if crashing his fiancé’s bachelor party was a mistake. But then Chris led him over to the bar (where Yuri Plisetsky was now talked animatedly with Felix), and ordered him some shots.

“One last night of total debauchery, right?”

“We can still go clubbing,” Matthias said. “It’s not an end to our freedom.”

“Honey, Victor and Yuuri are having _babies_. And they’re the life of the party. It won’t be the same without them.” Chris kissed him. “But I’m touched that you think I’d give up clubbing for you.”

Less than an hour later, Matthias got to see the legendary pole dancing prowess of Yuuri Katsuki, who was joined by Phichit Chulanont, and, after some prodding (but not much), Chris.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from his fiancé, and, after Chris had come down from the pole and situated himself in Matthias’s lap, Matthias found that he couldn’t _wait_ for their honeymoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Mathis is the french form of "Matthias" and it's pronounced like "Mat-EE", and I think Chris would use that as a nickname for him. Later on, we'll see "Mats" which is a proper German nickname for Matthias. [return to text]  
> 2 So to determine where Matthias was from, I did a randomiser on the 16 German federal states, and then from there, took the districts of the state that was selected (Saxony) and wound up with Chemnitz. I've never been, but apparently it's a really big sports city which has been home to dozens of figure skaters? Also, Chemnitz is small (pop ~250k), and broke and has a lot of issues, but Plauen (which is referenced in the next line) is even smaller. I had a friend who got a Fulbright in Plauen, and she and her friends would go to Chemnitz when they wanted to go to a big city, so I didn't think having bachelor parties there was that out there. [return to text]  
> 3 I love the idea of Yuri and Isabella becoming friends. Also, Dima, Vika, and Dasha are Otabek's friends from Almaty. [return to text]  
> 4 Swiss German / Schweizerdeutsch is so different from Standard German that it's always subtitled. I speak German fluently, lived in Germany for a year and a half, and can understand most dialects (except Bavarian) without much trouble, and I can understand Yiddish (which is its own fucking language) and Dutch (again: own fucking language) better than Schweizerdeutsch. Which is because I can't understand Schweizerdeutsch at all. [return to text]  
> 


	2. bonus / the morning after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little morning-after fun for all of your favorite ships.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter was intended to be It, but I just... kept writing, so here we are.

Matthias woke up to the sun streaming across his face. He rolled over and buried his head in the pillow. His head felt like it was about to split open, his mouth felt like it was stuffed full of cotton, and the light was too fucking bright, but he didn’t have it in him to get up and shut the blinds.

He heard Chris groan beside him. “Why do hangovers have to get worse when we get older?” he whispered.

“Christophe, I love you, but I swear to god if you keep talking, I’ll fucking murder you.”

Chris rustled around for a minute, and Matthias was about to snap again, but then he realised his fiancé had put a bottle of water and a package of ibuprofen next to his pillow, which Matthias accepted gratefully. “Thanks.”

“Anything for you, chéri,” Chris said, taking some ibuprofen himself and drinking from his own bottle of water. “At least we get married tomorrow. That’s enough time to recover.”

Matthias hummed in agreement.

* * *

Yuri woke up  _ not _ hungover in a tangled mess of limbs with his boyfriend who was, again, somehow reading. How Otabek could consistently manage to get a book and start reading in the mornings without disentangling himself from Yuri was one of life’s great mysteries.

“What is it this time?” Yuri asked.

“ _ In Polish Woods _ , by Joseph Opatoshu.”

Yuri furrowed his brows. The title was familiar. “You’ve read that one before.”

Otabek showed him the cover. Shit, that wasn’t cyrillic or roman letters. It was Hebrew. “It’s in Yiddish.”

“You can read  _ Yiddish _ ?”

“I took a class online last summer, but I’m trying to improve. I mean… I already speak Russian, I know Hebrew, and I learned German in school, so it’s not as hard as it could be. But… it’s a lot, and I have to keep a second notebook around for words I don’t know.”

Yuri sighed and cuddled into him. “How the hell did I get such a smart boyfriend?”

“Well,” Otabek said, “as I remember it, it had to do with you thinking I was really cool, and not realising what a giant nerd I am.”

Yuri hummed. “That sounds about right.”

Otabek grinned. “Do you want me to read aloud?”

“I probably won’t understand most of it, but sure.” He loved Otabek’s voice, and he had to admit that he was curious how his boyfriend would sound reading Yiddish aloud.

Otabek stumbled a lot, and Yuri got the feeling that maybe he used the wrong vowels from time to time, but it was nice.

* * *

Cao Bin woke up hungover. He grumbled and checked the clock. He wasn’t needed until the rehearsal dinner that night. He had time. He went over to the mini fridge, found the one solitary bottle of still water (what was it with Europeans and their love for carbonated water?), drank it, and then went back to bed. He set the alarm for an hour before the dinner, but he didn’t think he’d need it.

* * *

Victor woke up in his bed, naked, with Yuuri, also naked, asleep next to him. Victor had moderated his alcohol consumption the night before (and stuck to vodka), so he was blessedly free of a hangover, but he didn’t think that’d be the case for his poor Yuuri. So he left his beloved a note, got dressed quickly, and hurried down to the corner pharmacy to pick up some painkillers and a few bottles of still water (much as Victor loved mineral water, he knew that it was not a friend when it came to dealing with hangovers).

As he was in Lausanne, he was recognised on the way back to the hotel and stopped to take a selfie with a fan and gush about his children-to-be (they didn’t know, yet, if Mari would be having boys or girls or one of each but Victor loved them both already with everything he had), and headed back to the hotel.

He ran into one of Matthias’s friends (or was it his brother?) in the lobby and had a quick conversation in German with the man (thank god Chris was marrying a German and not someone who spoke Schweizerdeutsch because Victor could  _ communicate _ this way, and he always felt it was polite to try to communicate with someone in their native language; too many people used English just out of convenience).

Then he excused himself, explaining that he needed to care for his probably very hungover husband, and went back to his room.

Yuuri, bless his heart, was still asleep, so Victor took out two of the pills and opened the bottle of water and left them on the bedside table (close enough that Yuuri could access them easily if he so chose, but far enough away that he wouldn’t accidentally knock the water bottle over), and slipped into the bathroom for a shower.

When he got out, Yuuri was up, drinking the bottle of water like his life depended on it.

Victor walked over and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Good morning, sleeping beauty. Are you feeling okay?”

Yuuri swallowed and nodded. “No nausea, so that’s good. Thanks for getting this for me.”

“My darling, what are husbands for?”

* * *

Phichit realised that there were two people in the bed with him, and the events of the previous night came flooding back. He’d slept with the strippers. Well, two of them. Shit, he hoped Chris had paid them, but wait… was prostitution legal in Switzerland? Did they need some kind of permit? Phichit had already had to deal with an unexpected pregnancy; he didn’t need another international scandal on top of that.

He managed to wiggle out of the woman’s arms, past the man, and get into the shower. He was wearing a condom. That was good. He’d learned something. He threw the condom in the trash before he stepped into the shower.

He had to hand it to Chris; he’d picked a fucking amazing hotel. The water pressure was amazing, and the fact that it was a waterfall shower didn’t hurt matters, either. He spent maybe a bit too long in the shower, but it was glorious.

Once he was sure that he was all clean, he stepped out, wrapped himself in a towel, and went to find clothes. Fortunately, the strippers were both still asleep, so he dressed quickly, left a note, and made his way downstairs to the lobby.

He felt strangely homesick, although he’d only been away from Thailand for a week, which, in the grand scheme of things, was absolutely nothing, and wondered if there was any good Thai food in Lausanne. He doubted it, but he had his phone to help him. As he opened up Yelp, he wondered if Yuuri was up yet. But then he remembered the state Yuuri had been in the night before.

Best not to bother him.

Wandering around town, he found Otabek and Yuri sitting outside a café.

“Hey guys!” Phichit called, walking over. Fortunately, Otabek and Yuri seemed to have gotten over their aversion to talking to others in public.

“We’re waiting for Mila and Sara,” Yuri said. “If you wanna be a fifth wheel, by all means.”

“JJ and Bella are coming, too,” Otabek said, looking up from his phone. “JJ just texted me.”

“Thank fucking god that I’m not hungover,” Yuri mumbled. “I don’t think I could deal with him if I were.”

“I like Isabella, though,” Phichit said.

“Everyone does,” Yuri scoffed. “She’s way too good for that asshole.” He nudged his boyfriend. “Beka, I know JJ is your friend, but come on. If you had to pick between him and Isabella.”

Otabek mumbled something in Russian into his tea. Phichit’s Russian was rusty, but he had a feeling it was to the effect of “shut up.”


End file.
